


Discount Double-Check

by GutterBall



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cussing, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, SO MUCH SARCASM, Snark, bit of angst, mention of other characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 15:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6759655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GutterBall/pseuds/GutterBall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I blame Tumblr and <a href="http://gutterballgt.tumblr.com/post/140357267247/bootycap-imagine-ur-otp-raleigh-i-think">this prompt.</a> Raleigh's been working out at the Kaidanovskys' gym for years when Chuck moves into the neighborhood and blows in like an arrogant, angry hurricane. Everyone sort of avoids him, so -- for whatever reason -- The Jerk singles Raleigh out to hatch an evil plan to save 20% on his gym membership.</p><p>Things go awry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to the wonderful [estei-feist](http://estei-feist.tumblr.com/) for her help. She read this one as it happened and pointed out the rough patches, so I could fix them on the fly. Thank you!

Raleigh had something of a schedule, and he liked to keep to it as best he could. There was comfort in routine, in predictability. Yancy gave him shit for being like an old man with his dogged devotion to The Schedule, but if they'd learned anything from their time in the Army, it was that predictability was a blessing, and they needed all the blessings they could get.

So, he liked getting up at the same time every day -- though he allowed one weekend morning for sleeping in, if he could, which was always a big "if" -- and having a protein bar for breakfast. He liked going for his morning jog, come rain or come shine. He liked the relaxing smell of the bamboo shampoo Mako had given him for his last birthday and planned to get more when the current bottle emptied.

But even more, he liked reading or writing through the late morning and early afternoon to settle his mind. The writing had started out as a therapy thing, but he found it soothed him, and before he knew it, he'd jumped from journaling his own recovery to roughly plodding through a short story. Yancy had seen the file on his computer, snooped, and -- much to Raleigh's flustered embarrassment -- tidied it up and sent it off for publication.

Lo and behold, it was accepted. It had been... a beginning. A do-over from what he'd expected out of life. And not a change to The Schedule, because he'd been journaling in the middle of the day, anyway.

But what he liked most was shutting down whatever he was working on that day -- he was currently trying to write an actual novel; some days were more successful than others -- tidying up his lunch dishes, putting on his workout clothes, and meeting Tendo at the corner gym four days a week for strength training and unlimited use of the gym's ellipticals. Yes, Raleigh had done the required physical therapy after the hurried-up honorable discharge, but he still needed work. He still wasn't... right. Not one hundred percent.

He feared he never would be. Like Yancy.

Thus, he was... nonplussed... when Tendo called him one sunny Tuesday morning to inform him that he'd sprained his knee while playing basketball with the Wei triplets -- notorious for playing juuuuust this side of dirty -- and he wouldn't be at the gym for... a while. He wasn't sure yet. The doctor said it depended on how fast the swelling and soreness went down.

It was a disruption to The Schedule, but only a minor one. He'd miss Tendo's company while they both strode into nowhere or spotted each other on the free weights, but it wasn't like he couldn't go to the gym just because his friend wasn't there. He'd just have to find someone else to spot him. Or just use his favorite elliptical until Tendo was ready for a little knee rehab.

Totally fine. No problem.

Until he got to the gym and found The Jerk on his favorite elliptical. The Jerk had been the topic of many a smirky conversation, because The Jerk was... well... a jerk. Early twenties, arrogant, and loud about it as only an Australian could be, the kid just strolled in one Thursday afteroon, looked around the place, and apparently claimed it as his own, because he acted like everyone else was in his way.

Raleigh thought the scary Russian couple that _actually_ owned the place might have something to say about that. Thus far, he and Tendo had mostly just watched the epic glowering matches between the three with the same gleeful anticipation as their beloved action movies. Tendo even offered to bring popcorn once.

But now, The Jerk was on his favorite elliptical, and Raleigh was trying to be flexible -- he really was -- but on top of Tendo being out for who knew how long, he wasn't sure he could take moving to a different elliptical _and_ being in the same general vicinity as The Jerk. It was too much to ask.

Taking a deep breath, he fixed what he hoped was neither a "talk to me; I'm friendly!" nor an "I will fuck you up" expression on his face and headed for the next elliptical over. He didn't want to be right next to the guy, but he did want to be as close to where he usually exercised as possible. It helped get him into that purely physical mind space, to get him out of his head for a while.

He really, really needed that.

To his relief, The Jerk merely shot him a glance and a short nod without so much as missing a stride. Good. This could work. He was in almost the same place where the design on the wall went from an overlapping confusion of multi-sized circles to soothing swirls and waves. He liked the swirls and waves. It was like being at the beach.

For all of five minutes.

"Not gonna introduce yourself?"

He hadn't come anywhere near to working up a sweat or even being out of breath, so he really had no excuse to not reply. Dammit.

"Raleigh." He could almost hear Yancy telling him to finish the exchange. Grudgingly, he did so. "And you?"

"Chuck."

Because they were both on ellipticals, they didn't offer to shake hands, much to Raleigh's relief. In fact, Chuck the Jerk didn't seem to have anything else to say. Things were looking up.

The upbeat attitude lasted another five minutes.

"So, Ray, what do you do when you're not sweating your ass off here?"

His jaw clenched. Why was The Jerk even talking to him? They'd barely even exchanged eye contact until now, and he clearly hadn't even listened well enough to get his name right.

_Dammit, Tendo! This is why we don't change The Schedule!_

"My name is Raleigh."

"Yeah, you said. Did you know those ratbag Russians that run this place give twenty percent off to couples? What the fuck, right? Just because they're married, they think that makes couples better or something?"

He really didn't want to talk to this guy. "I think they're brother and sister, actually."

The Jerk considered this. "Maybe they're both?"

Against his will, he snickered. A little too loudly to hide or disguise as a cough. And The Jerk saw it.

And smirked.

"I've got an idea."

_Oh, sweet Jesus, why me?_

"Let's fake being a couple and get the discount."

Eyes wide, he came to a sudden and complete stop and jerked his head around to stare at The Jerk. "I'm sorry?"

"It's perfect! We tell 'em we're dating, yeah? Serves 'em right for having such a bullshit policy in the first place."

Raleigh was not prepared. He couldn't have been prepared.

"Oi, the fuck is wrong with you? You having a seizure or something?"

The Jerk sounded almost concerned, even _looked_ concerned, and it threw him even further off. "Are you nuts? I don't even know you."

"So?" The Jerk bristled. "It's not like we'd really be dating, asshole. And, not gonna lie, I could really use twenty percent off this expensive-as-fuck membership."

"Why?"

"Because university is expensive as fuck, too, ya wanker. Jesus, if you're gonna be this big a pissbaby over it, forget it."

His jaw clenched again. "I meant why not just go to another gym? Hell, there's one at the college that's free with your student ID."

"Nosy fuck." The Jerk crossed his arms, looking ridiculous with his feet still planted on the foot treads. "If you must know, Uni is all the way across town, where this place is right down the street, and I don't have classes on the weekends."

"So go during the week."

"Fuck you. I'm taking nineteen hours, genius. When exactly am I supposed to study?"

He smirked. "On the weekends."

The Jerk's eyes narrowed. "What's the problem then? You already dating someone?"

He raised an eyebrow. His social life was none of this abrasive prick's business. Not that there was anything to tell. But The Jerk didn't know that.

Didn't stop him from smirking. "Lemme guess: you're a fucking homophobe. Just fucking great."

Since Yancy tended to refer to him as "gay as the 1920s", he only rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Then what? It's brilliant, dammit!"

"No, it isn't! They'll see through it in a heartbeat. Do you really want the big guy to pick you up and throw you out? Because I don't."

The Jerk looked unimpressed. "Frankly, mate, I'm more scared of the woman. She shows way too many teeth when she smiles."

Again, he found himself unable to hide his grudging amusement. Hoping to cover it up, he started treading again. "Either way, I like this gym. I'm not fucking it up for some random guy I've only spoken to once."

Silence. It lasted all of ten seconds.

"Chicken."

He rolled his eyes and didn't slow his stride. "That's not gonna work."

"Then what will?"

Stopping again, he shot The Jerk an irritated -- but not incurious -- look. "Why is this so important to you?"

"Twenty. Percent. Discount."

His eyes rolled again without checking with him first. "Jesus, if it's that important to you, ask someone else."

To his surprise, The Jerk actually looked pensive, even as he scowled. "Don't reckon anyone else would do it, mate. I dunno why, but everyone 'round here has one hell of a stick up their ass."

And everything suddenly became clear. This kid had no idea how he came across to others. He thought everyone _else_ was off-putting and abrasive.

Except Raleigh, apparently. He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

This would so put a crimp in The Schedule.

Sighing, he shook his head. "Okay."

To his surprise, The Jerk brightened, and the change was extraordinary. For a moment, The Jerk was gone, and some random kid named Chuck stood beside him, grinning like victory. With dimples.

Raleigh hadn't expected those dimples.

"Yeah?"

Again fighting a grin, he rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Next time we come in, we'll say... I dunno... we hit it off on the ellipticals and are dating."

"Bonzer!" Apparently, the kid was pleased enough to actually offer his hand, which Raleigh shook with a dubious grin. "You're all right, Ray."

"Raleigh."

"'S what I said, yeah? So when are you usually here?"

Not worth fighting over. With his fake boyfriend. Which he didn't need at all and was already regretting fake-dating.

"Afternoons on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday."

"Right. I have afternoons free on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I'm usually here both Saturday and Sunday. So... Thursday? Same time?"

 _I'm always here at the same time._ But he didn't say that. Instead, he shrugged. "Sounds like a plan." But he couldn't help himself. "A terrible plan, but a plan, nonetheless."

"This is gonna be awesome."


	2. Chapter 2

"Miz Kaidanovsky?" Because now, Raleigh wasn't sure if she was a miss or a missus. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

He and Chuck had agreed that Raleigh should do all the talking here. Although Chuck said it was because he looked like a puppy that no one could bring themselves to kick, Raleigh asserted it was only because the Kaidanovskys had been very kind to him when he started his membership.

He didn't tell Chuck why, of course. They weren't actually dating. Near-strangers didn't get to hear his sob story.

"Yes, little Becket?" Her supposedly welcoming shark smile fell into a narrow-eyed stare. "Ah. You."

Raleigh shot Chuck a raised eyebrow, but the kid just shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. He failed.

"Why are you with the angry red jerk?"

The kid bristled, and Raleigh tried mightily to hide his amusement. Maybe this was a good idea after all.

"Aw, he's not that bad." Now, he let a little of that amusement out in a smile. "In fact, we kinda hit it off Tuesday and are kinda dating."

The lady Kaidanovsky's eyes went wide, and he had to fight the urge to write this moment down so he'd remember it forever. This was the day he had thrown a Kaidanovsky so far off her stride that she showed genuine shock. Actually on her face.

Suddenly, Chuck's hand latched onto his, and the kid crowded close. Trying not to look surprised, Raleigh shot him a glance, then had to look away to avoid smirking at the scowl on the kid's face.

"So sorry." Her eyes narrowed again. "Angry _possessive_ red jerk."

He couldn't help it. He snickered. At least he tried to turn it into an affectionate, fond grin at his so-called boyfriend. He doubted Chuck was impressed, though.

"C'mon, honey. You gotta admit that was a good one."

The Jerk was back in full force, his grip on Raleigh's hand almost painful. "I'll laugh about it tomorrow." But his expression softened -- deliberately, Raleigh would bet. "You promised coffee and donuts for breakfast. I'll laugh then, yeah?"

He hadn't. But he rolled with it. "I promised coffee and _Danish._ Donuts are weird and I won't have them in throwing distance."

It sounded natural enough. In fact, he was surprised by how natural the back-and-forth felt.

"Oi, what's the point of moving to the States if I can't have Krispy Kremes?"

He opened his mouth to respond -- he had an unfounded hatred of donuts that Yancy had long-sufferingly borne up under for lo, these many years -- but the Kaidanovsky woman beat him to it.

"I begin to see." She eyed them with... suspicion? Amusement? It was hard to tell on such a stoic face. "Yes. So you tell me for discount, yes?"

Holy shit. Was this really going to work?

"Honestly, I don't care one way or the other, but Chuck's a college student and could really use it. Do we have to fill out a form or something?"

Even though she looked away to dig around in a filing cabinet, he felt her attention still focused on them and kept up the act. A little bit of truth sprinkled in with the deception ought to work wonders, but the Russians were no one's fools.

Or maybe he was overthinking it.

She turned back to them and slid a form across the counter. Raleigh scanned it over while Chuck filled it out. It was fairly straightforward -- name on account, name of significant other, relationship (dating, engaged, married), how long in the relationship, signature and date -- which made Raleigh even more suspicious.

But the kid handed it over, and the Kaidanovsky filed it without breaking eye contact, and it was done. Right? It wasn't like there was some kind of test to take to see if people were dating or not.

Was there?

"Will be discount on next month's bill, angry possessive red jerk."

Unimpressed, Chuck grunted. "Great."

Rolling his eyes, Raleigh decided he'd have to be the peacemaker. "Thank you, Miz Kaidanovsky. We appreciate it, right, hon?"

To his surprise, the kid managed to bring forth the dimples. "We do. Thanks."

She shark-smiled, baring far more teeth than a human mouth should possess. "Is a bit soon for vows, yes?"

Raleigh blushed. "Uh... we'll just... yeah. Ellipticals."

They escaped, not realizing they were still holding hands until they stood at the row of ellipticals and stopped to stare at each other. Then, they let go and practically jumped to their separate machines. Raleigh quickly hopped up onto his favorite, not really caring if The Jerk minded at this point.

"Did that feel weird to you?" Chuck climbed onto the next elliptical over without complaining. "Because that felt weird as fuck to me. Like she's stitching us up."

Feeling more in his bailiwick on his favorite machine, Raleigh shrugged and reiterated his earlier thought. "Not like there's some kind of test to determine if we're really dating. This ain't immigration investigating for a green card, kid."

"Oi, fuck, don't even mention it." Grunting, the kid started treading. "I've not had to deal much with immigration yet, but it's only a matter of time. I'm hoping if I get all my bullshit paperwork in early, it'll never come down to that kind of fuckarow."

He stopped treading and turned a level look on the kid. "I'm saying this now because I want it very clear: I _will not_ marry you so you can stay in the country. Fake boyfriend is my limit."

"Ssssh!" The kid shot a hasty look around. "Jesus, Ray, don't say it out loud like that!"

Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes. Because 'fake boyfriend' is the important part of what I just said."

"Yeah, well, the marriage thing won't be an issue because I'm on top of that shit, so it _isn't_ important." The Jerk took a few more steps, then stopped. "Though, seriously... fuck you anyway."

"And you, honey."

Mutually -- and silently -- agreeing that further conversation would be non-productive at best, they both turned their attention to their separate workouts. Probably for the best.


	3. Chapter 3

Tendo called Saturday morning. The news was not good.

"Yeah, so it turns out that I didn't sprain my knee. I tore my MCL."

Raleigh winced. "Ow."

"Tell me about it. Grade Three tear, even. Those triplet bastards are paying for my goddamn brace. It's, like, six hundred dollars, and I'm sure as hell not paying for it."

"Jesus."

Since this was Raleigh's sleep-in morning, Yancy had made pancakes for them both, and he tooled his fork through the syrup as he debated whether or not to do the thing. On one hand, he really needed to know. On the other hand, it might be insensitive.

But he _really_ needed to know.

"So... how long you out of commission?"

Tendo sighed heavily, sounding pained. "Including physical therapy? At least four weeks. Maybe up to eight, depending on how rehab goes."

He blinked, trying to turn off the part of his brain that was screaming about The Schedule. That wasn't important right now.

Besides. He could probably ask his fake boyfriend to spot for him.

He almost laughed until he realized he'd have to explain why he was laughing at the idea of eight weeks of treatment.

"Damn, man. That... that is just...."

"Fucking awful?"

He nodded, even though Tendo wouldn't see it. "Took the words right outta my brain."

Another sigh. "I'm sorry, Rals. I know this is throwing things all to hell for you--"

"No, no." He put down his fork and slumped back in his seat. "Tendo, man, don't even think about that. You just do you, okay? Let me worry about me."

He appreciated it. He really did. Tendo never questioned why The Schedule was so important and never actually called it that, but he knew. He'd been friends with both Raleigh and Yancy for years. _Of course_ he knew.

So, Raleigh forced a smile, knowing his friend would hear it. "Besides, I might have found a spotter who can fill in in the meantime."

Silence. He grinned a little, well aware of the thought process unfolding in Tendo's perfectly-coiffed head. Raleigh Becket, trusting someone to spot him. Raleigh Becket, trusting someone enough to explain why having a spotter was particularly important to him.

Raleigh Becket, _trusting._

And no, he didn't trust The Jerk that far yet. But Tendo didn't have to know that. His old friend needed to think about his own recuperation right now, not Raleigh's.

So, they let that little conversational bomb drop into the distance as they talked about exactly what rehabbing a severely torn MCL entailed, then hung up with Tendo in a much better frame of mind and Raleigh not quite freaking out over Tendo being out for at least a month.

In all, he considered it a good piece of work.

Unfortunately, his whirling thoughts hampered his ability to write, so he mostly journaled a bit about his thoughts and feelings during this particular hiccup, then found himself smirking as he also jotted down that he was pretending to be a near-stranger's boyfriend to get him the couples discount at the gym. It looked hilarious on paper. In fact, it looked like something that would make for a good short story.

And just like that, he was writing.

\--

"She's not buying it."

Raleigh rolled his eyes, treading stolidly into the spirals and waves on the wall. The Jerk had been a little later than usual, and for some reason, it had made him paranoid.

"Seriously, mate, I walked in and she hit me with that Look."

Because he'd been at the elliptical a good twenty minutes longer than Chuck, Raleigh wasn't at all embarrassed that he was breathing hard when he answered. "What look?"

"That fucking Russian I-know-you-fake-relationship-to-scam-discount Look."

He frowned a bit and shot the kid a look. "I think that might be racial profiling. Or discrimination. I'm not honestly sure which."

The kid snorted, looking a bit less hunted. "Russian isn't a race, smart ass. And I dunno if you caught this or not, but I'm not the most P.C. bloke around anyway."

_And you wonder why nobody likes you._

But he wouldn't say that. Not outright.

"So, it didn't occur to you that she might be glaring at you because you think Russians are naturally suspicious, rather than because she thinks you're scamming twenty percent off her. Which you are."

Ginger eyebrows pulled together in a scowl. "Are you calling me a racist prick?"

Raleigh raised an eyebrow. "Are you one?"

"Oi!"

Raleigh's eyebrow stayed put. The Jerk's scowl deepened.

"Okay, fine, but I'm not a racist."

He snorted, then snickered. "You are, however, secretly funny."

Just like that, the scowl disappeared and the dimples came out. "Yeah?"

It was amazing, really, how different the kid looked when he was smiling. He found himself grinning in response until movement caught the corner of his eye. He turned to look that way, only to see the Kaidanovsky woman eyeing them with... a smirk? A fond smile? Murderous, suspicious anticipation?

Hard to tell with her.

Luckily, she'd caught them grinning at each other instead of sniping, so he just widened his grin and tipped her a wink, then returned his attention to The Jerk. Who'd caught the whole exchange and was hard-put not to fall off his elliptical.

"Jesus, how do you do that?"

He blinked, some of his grin fading. "Do... what?"

"Get her to smile at you." The kid shook his head. "Get _people_ to smile at you. People do it all the fucking time, and, not gonna lie, mate... it kinda pisses me off."

He blinked again. "Do they?"

Rolling his eyes, The Jerk reached out to the control pad and increased his elliptical's incline. "I've yet to see anyone in this whole fucking place _not_ look at you like you're made of puppies and sunshine."

"I... what?"

"I'm serious! It's annoying!"

Shaking his head, he tried to fall back into his focus, but he was too rattled by the idea that anyone even noticed he was here. Sure, he tried to not look depressed or anxious or angry when he was out and about, but... puppies and sunshine?

"And then sometimes, you get this... look." The kid went right on as if they hadn't stopped talking a good five minutes before. "I can't tell if it's a thousand yard stare or if you're really that into your workout."

Startled all over again, he shot The Jerk a considering look. They'd only been on speaking terms a few days, but it sounded like the kid had been eyeing him a lot longer than that.

"Maybe I'm thinking deep thoughts."

A snort. "You, mate, are too goddamn pretty for deep thoughts."

Caught between a grin and a frown, he huffed. "I think I might be insulted."

"What, you a philosopher, then?"

Again, it was said with simple disregard, and something about the casual assumption that he was an idiot flicked Raleigh on the raw.

"A writer."

He hadn't told anyone that. Yancy knew because he was the jerk who sent off that first story in the first place. Tendo knew because Yancy couldn't keep a secret from his bestie to save his life. But no one else knew.

He didn't publish under his own name. He didn't even know why.

So he strode in tense silence until The Jerk made up his mind on how to react to the statement. It took a surprisingly long time. Like maybe the kid realized he might have been a bit ungenerous and should probably rein it in before his fake boyfriend dumped his angry possessive red ass.

Or Raleigh might be projecting.

Finally: "Huh."

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and wondered why he even bothered. The Jerk wasn't capable of simple human interaction, let alone catching onto nuance and the unstated importance of otherwise hard-won confidences.

"Sorry, mate. Not to offend. Just... always pictured writers as... I dunno... hipsters in coffee shops doing more talking about writing than actual writing, yeah? You don't seem the type."

Mildly appeased by the apology, he shrugged as best he could while keeping his pace steady. "I don't drink coffee."

The kid jerked his head around and stared at him. "Who the fuck doesn't drink coffee?"

He shot The Jerk a droll look. "Insomniacs."

"Oh."

A few blissful moments of quiet. They didn't last long.

"So you're an insomniac writer who doesn't drink coffee. Anything I've read?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you read?"

"Of course I fucking read."

He smiled with saccharine sweetness. "Sorry. Not to offend. You just don't seem the type."

"Fuck you, Ray."

But the kid wore a grudging smirk, so Raleigh figured he'd made his point. Again, he was afforded a few moments' peace before his focus was interrupted yet again.

"Oi, why's the big bloke headed for the mens' again?"

Shaking his head, he shot the kid a narrow-eyed but amused look. "You're really nosy."

"I am not."

"Uh, yeah. You are. Not only have you apparently been measuring the exact distance of my thousand yard stare, but now you're monitoring Mr. Kaidanovsky's bathroom habits."

"Fuck off, ya wanker." But The Jerk looked only mildly annoyed, his attention much more on the men's locker room than on Raleigh. "He's been back there three times, just since I got here. I... oh, fuck. Oh, fuck!" Wide, light-colored eyes met Raleigh's, and the kid stopped treading so abruptly it looked like it hurt. "Jesus, my mobile's back there!"

Unsure what had the kid so riled up, he couldn't decide whether to be amused or concerned. "So? So's mine."

Leaning close, the poor guy dropped his voice to a harsh whisper. "It doesn't have your number on it, moron! What the hell kind of couple doesn't exchange numbers?"

Oops. It was a valid point. Unfortunately, Raleigh still felt his mouth wanting to smirk. "The fake kind?"

"Exactly!" Practically twitching now, Chuck dismounted his elliptical and wiped his hands nervously on his trackpants. "Quick, what's your number? I'll go add it and text you so you can go in after me and add me."

This kind of shit was soooo not in The Schedule. That said, he couldn't help but be amused at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. And the kid really did have a point about them not exchanging numbers. A cursory glance at either of their phones -- did The Jerk not have a lock screen? -- would give the game away in a hurry.

Maybe that's why he was enjoying himself so immensely, despite all the disruptions. It was all so much like a kid's game. Entertaining as hell.

Yancy would find it _hilarious._ If he ever told him.

So, he rolled his eyes and kept on striding. "Fine, whatever."

He rattled off his number, half-hoping the kid misremembered it, then watched as The Jerk practically ran for the locker room, clearly trying to look everywhere at once without looking guilty. It was ridiculous. But amusing.

He didn't even protest when the big ginger dork came swaggering back, relieved and smug in equal measures, and gestured toward the locker room. If Raleigh was honest, he was ready for a break. He usually would have headed for the free weights by now, but... yeah. Not happening for a while.

The "unknown number" text was very, very The Jerk: **_We need stupid pet names for each other. I don't like "honey". Sort it out._**

Snorting, he added the new contact, then smirked and changed the name from Chuck to APRJ and texted back: **What's wrong with Angry Possessive Red Jerk? I think it really captures how I feel about you, honey.**

Still smirking, he went back to his workout, well aware that it'd be a while before he heard back on that one. He figured it'd be worth the wait.

\--

He was still showering when the sharp _"Oi!"_ echoed through the locker room. Smiling and content, Raleigh went back to his thorough scrubdown.

That was definitely going in the story.


	4. Chapter 4

"Oi, Ray, you need to start coming in on Sundays instead of Mondays."

He frowned, stopping a good ten feet down the concrete from where Chuck leaned against the wall just to the side of the door, arms crossed over his chest, gym bag at his feet. He hadn't heard from The Jerk since Saturday, so Tuesday must be "meet your fake boyfriend outside the gym and be demanding" day in Australia.

"No?"

"Seriously, mate. It's weird when you're not here. The Russians are suspicious, and it makes me twitchy as a poppy-hopped wallaby."

He blinked. Did he want to know? Probably not.

"You're paranoid."

"Doesn't mean I'm wrong." The mulish expression softened and turned the slightest bit pleading. "It's just a day earlier, mate. C'mon, yeah? Do us a favor."

But he couldn't. The Schedule had, thus far, only been mildly altered by all the shenanigans. Actually moving an appointment an entire day up was... too much.

But he refused to explain to The Jerk, even if Chuck wasn't currently being a jerk.

So he let himself look sincere and apologetic as he refused, even stepping closer to do so. "Sorry, man. I really am. But I can't do Sundays."

"What, you got church?"

He sighed. "No." Religion had long since lost any sense of comfort for him.

"Don't tell me you watch that shitty American football that's not really football."

Rolling his eyes, he fiddled with the strap of his gym bag where it crossed his chest. "I do, but they're in training camp right now. No games yet."

"Ugh." Frowning, the kid eyed him. "Then what?"

He felt the urge to just be stubborn rise in him but pushed it down. If he got stubborn, he had no doubt Chuck would respond in kind. "I just can't. I'm sorry, but changing my workout days is non-negotiable."

"Fuck."

The poor guy looked so fussed that Raleigh actually felt a little sorry for him. "What makes you think they're suspicious?"

Frowning harder, the kid kicked at a crack in the sidewalk. "They stare at me, yeah? And the big bloke came over specifically to ask me how your strength training was going, if you'd gained any more mobility. I had no fucking clue what he was on about, so I just sort of shrugged and said you were status quo. What the fuck _was_ he on about?"

Thank God, but Raleigh wasn't given a chance to actually answer, because he had no intention of doing so.

"And that woman... ugh. Mate, she fucking knows." Another kick at the crack, this one a bit more forceful. "As I was leaving, she called me over and said as how it was odd that she and Aleksis -- that's the bloke, right? -- lived right around here, too, but she'd never seen us out and about together."

Okay, that got a wince. He hadn't considered that. The neighborhood was pretty close-knit, though there were occasional new arrivals like Chuck. He should have realized that them not even knowing each other outside the gym would be a red flag to someone as observant as the lady Kaidanovsky. As both Kaidanovskys, really.

This was so much more complicated than it should be.

"I tried to fob her off with you coming to see me at Uni, since I'm taking so many hours you'd never see me otherwise, but she gave me that fucking Look again and dammit, mate, this shite is way more complicated than it oughtta be."

His mouth twitched. "You do realize you're probably working harder for your twenty percent off than if you got a part time job and just earned the extra, right?"

"I've thought about it, yeah? But with labs and all the goddamn problem sets, I just don't have the time. Fuck, mate, if I had time for a job, I'd have time to get myself a real goddamn boyfriend, wouldn't I?"

He snorted. "So what do you suggest?"

Sighing, the poor kid let his head fall back against the wall. "Fuck, I dunno. We're gonna have to be seen together, but when? If I had time to hang out all the time, I'd already be doing it, yeah?"

"Chuck." He shook his head, amused that someone who was clearly pretty bright had so blatantly missed the obvious. "They're both at the gym during their business hours. Neither of them are there after closing up. We'll just have to...."

Wait. What the fuck was he saying? The Schedule, dammit!

The kid stood away from the wall, finally looking more interested than glum. "Yeah?"

"...Uh... I just...." Dammit. He wasn't getting out of this one. And Yancy would ask, because he had to know _everything._ Sighing, Raleigh gave into the inevitable. "Just... we'll pick some evening after the gym closes and get a coffee across the street or something. Sit next to the window so they'll see us when they leave. That'll put them off for a while."

"You don't drink coffee."

He rolled his eyes. "Are we doing this or not? I should've already been on an elliptical fifteen minutes ago."

"No. I mean, _yeah,_ I just...." Flustered, the kid waved a hand vaguely. "Wouldn't you rather go somewhere else?"

Considering, he looked up and down the street. The Kaidanovskys lived two blocks up, but the farmer's market was three blocks down. There was a cafe over by the market and a cramped little bistro pretty much across the street from the Russians' brownstone, but there was no way to predict which way they'd go any given night. If he and Chuck wanted to be seen together, which was the whole damn point, there was no better place than right across the street from the gym.

So, he shrugged. "I'll get a cup of tea or something. This is about being visible, not about what we end up ordering."

The kid still frowned, but he eventually nodded slowly. "Is tonight too soon?"

How long would it take? It wasn't like he and Yancy had any big plans or anything. Just... he usually went home and stayed there. Wednesday was grocery day and Friday was eat-at-the-shitty-diner-around-the-corner night, but most other evenings were... stay home. Watch movies. Play video games. Maybe squeeze in a bit more writing if the muse cooperated.

The Schedule... was about to be fucked.

He hedged. "Thursday would be... better? If that's okay?"

Looking pensive, Chuck eyed him. "I get the feeling I'm really fucking you up somehow."

Swallowing hard, he looked away. He was so not ready for that conversation. Hell, they shouldn't _ever_ have that conversation. The only reason they were talking now was so The Jerk could get a goddamn discount.

"It's fine. So... Thursday?"

The kid sighed. "Yeah, mate. Thursday. And thanks." He gestured vaguely. "For... y'know. Going out of your way, yeah?"

 _If you only knew, kid._ He forced a paltry half-smile as he finally reached for the door. _If you only knew._


	5. Chapter 5

"So, tell me again why you're going to a coffee shop with The Jerk on a date that's not a date?"

Raleigh rolled his eyes. Yancy might be the best brother in the world, but he was also kind of a dick.

"I'll be back in an hour or so." He'd started for the door, but he hesitated and allowed himself one more saving throw. "Just... you're sure you're okay with this? You'll text me if... anything...?"

Yancy softened, going back to being a good brother. "I won't take them off until you get home, okay? Nothing will happen. Have a good time." Softening further, he smiled a bit. "You deserve it. You know that, right?"

But looking at his brother -- scarred but still the pretty Becket, even standing on a prosthetic leg (top of the line, of course) with both his real hand and his prosthetic one (also top of the line) propped on his hips, Raleigh wasn't so sure. If he'd just been _looking--_

"Don't. Raleigh, just... I'm fine, okay? They don't ache yet, and it's not like I'm moving furniture or anything." He tried for a grin and almost made it. "Go. Have fun. Give The Jerk a hard time."

It was hard enough to go running in the morning, and he only went to the gym in the afternoon because the home health aide was there for Yancy's physical therapy. Any other time he left the house, they were together. He didn't like leaving Yancy alone. The prosthetics were amazing and responded to mental commands and nerve stimuli almost like real limbs, and Yance was far from helpless without them, but....

Yancy faked a scowl that smirked around the edges. "If you're not going, I am."

That got the closest thing to a grin yet, and Raleigh shook his head. "Yeah, yeah. An hour or so. Call Tendo or something. He could probably use a distraction from his Netflix binge."

"Can I tell him about--"

_"No."_

"Awwww."

So, Raleigh left with a grin, knowing full well that Yancy had done it on purpose. In some ways, Yance had handled the situation better than Raleigh had, even though he'd gotten the worst of the physical damage. Oh, there were bad days when he couldn't drag his brother out of his room, let alone convince him to put on the prosthetics.

But most of the time, Yancy Becket was a rock. Raleigh tried very hard not to lean on him too heavily.

He couldn't help fidgeting with his phone as he walked, though, checking at least four times to ensure it was on and the volume was up. Nothing would happen in an hour, of course, but... just in case. He'd never been a Boy Scout, but he definitely lived by their motto these days.

Unfortunately, all his phone-checking and foot-dragging -- and all the reluctance to leave in the first place -- had him running a little later than he intended, so he picked up the pace and practically jogged the last block. Luckily, he ran every morning, so he wasn't panting or even breathing heavily when he hauled open the coffee shop's door.

Thus, he was able to fully enjoy the sight of The Jerk's scowly expression transforming into a relieved and welcoming grin at the sight of him. He didn't resist the urge to grin back and wave, even as he turned the wave to a gesture at the counter. The kid nodded, his grin undiminished.

He ordered a chai tea latte and a croissant, then threaded his way through the artsy tables spread across the main room, trying not to spill on himself. Chuck had set up shop at the window, apparently deciding that a so-called date was a great time for some extra studying, if the pile of thick textbooks and notebooks strewn about were any indication. To his credit, the kid was trying to bring some order to the mess without spilling his latest coffee as Raleigh approached.

"Sorry, mate." The books went into a backpack the kid pulled up from the floor. "Got a problem set due in the morning. I came early in hopes of getting some of it done, but it's busy as fuck in here."

He grinned and settled in the chair opposite. "Which is why I don't write in coffee shops."

"Ha ha." But The Jerk looked wryly amused as he stowed away his notebooks and tucked the backpack back under the table. "Never letting that die, are you?"

"What are you studying? If you don't mind me asking."

"Mechatronics engineering."

He blinked. "I have no idea what that is."

Chuck grinned and shoved aside two empty coffee cups before fiddling with the third, which was presumably somewhere between empty and full. "It's a combination of electrical, computer, and mechanical engineering. I'm hoping to go into robotics when I graduate."

He blinked again. "Jesus."

Ginger eyebrows drew together. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Shaking off his surprise, he tried to soothe the potential for irritation. "Sorry, just... I didn't... you seem so young. When you said college, I thought you meant undergraduate."

Mollified, the kid settled back in his chair. "Graduated early, didn't I? We moved about a lot when I was young, so I studied at my own pace. I blew through secondary and senior secondary and was at university when I was sixteen."

Reduced to blinking again, he could only shake his head.

"University was a traipse, and I'm in my second year of graduate school."

Eyeing the kid with new respect, he grinned a bit. "How old _are_ you, anyway?"

"Twenty-one. You?"

"Twenty-seven." He finally took a sip of his tea, then hummed approvingly. Spicy and sweet and rich. He'd have to remember it if they came here again. He ought to jot it down. "So, you moved around a lot as a kid? That must have been exciting. All those new places."

A flash of his own youth brought a sudden smile to his face. His family had lived in Alaska, but his mother... oh, how she'd loved to travel. He still had albums full of pictures of the places they'd gone. Probably a good thing, in retrospect.

"I fucking hated it."

He blinked and shook off the fragmentary memories, startled by the venom in the kid's voice. Had he said something wrong?

Apparently, Chuck wasn't so furious that he wasn't aware of his company. Clearing his throat, he shifted in his seat. "Sorry, mate, just... not as fun as it might sound, moving about like that. Never settling, never making friends, never knowing where you'd end up next. It was a shite way to grow up, and I fucking hated it."

The kid seemed poised to say more, then abruptly shut down and took a long drink of his coffee. And suddenly, it was so clear. The borderline antisocial personality. The tangible air of arrogance and fuck-off. The inability to understand that other people considered him a jerk, which was why no one wanted to talk to him.

This kid had apparently never had a friend in his life. And that was too fucking sad for words.

"You're right." He grinned a little as Chuck glanced up from his coffee. "I was thinking about how we traveled around when I was a kid, but... we always had a home to go back to. We just visited those other places. We weren't dragged there, forced to stay there a while, then yanked away before we could ever feel at home."

Broad shoulders lowered a bit, and the kid sighed. "My dad was in the RAAF, a special services branch that worked with other forces around the world. So yeah, one base after another."

Knowing it was probably a mistake to ask and hoping that if he put it gently enough, no one would end up bleeding, he asked the question. "And your mom?"

Swallowing hard, the kid looked out the window. "Died when I was ten."

Ah. "I'm sorry to hear that. My mom died when I was fifteen or sixteen."

A glance from icy, light-colored eyes. Raleigh still wasn't sure of the color.

"You don't remember which?"

Oops. Uncomfortable now, he picked at his croissant, pulling it apart. "That's a long story."

"Can't be shittier than mine, and the Russians still haven't left yet."

Should he? It shouldn't matter. He'd had no intention of telling The Jerk anything about his past. But... Chuck had opened up to him a little. Surely, he should return at least part of the gesture.

Hedging, he took another sip of his tea before answering, letting the rich flavor settle him. "I have... some memory loss. There was a... an accident."

The kid's eyes went wide. "Jesus, mate. I'm sorry, yeah?" So The Jerk was capable of sympathy as well as dimples. "Is that why the Russian bloke asked about your mobility? How... can I ask how bad it was?"

Could he answer if he did? Unsure if he was about to bray inappropriate laughter or get up and walk out, Raleigh fiddled with the ruins of his croissant and debated what he felt comfortable saying. What felt... safe.

Nothing. Nothing felt safe.

Nothing ever felt safe.

"I... uh... can we not talk about it?" He winced, then shot Chuck a look to see if he looked offended. "Sorry, it's just... it's a lot."

"Sure, sure." But the kid looked crestfallen as he sat back. "None of my business, yeah?"

Dammit. This was the kid who apparently had never had a friend trying to be sympathetic, trying to be a good sport about being shut down.

Sighing, Raleigh gave in. "You said your dad was in a special forces unit? Well, so was I. Me and my brother. Missions all over the world."

"You have a brother?" Despite the indescribable expression on the kid's face while Raleigh opened up a bit, Chuck managed to sound... wistful. "Always wondered what it'd be like to have a brother or sister."

Yikes. An only kid on top of being moved all over and never feeling at home. Again, some of the kid's personality made more sense.

"Yancy is... a dick." He grinned wanly. "He's the best brother in the world, but he's a dick, too."

To his surprise, the kid actually chuckled. "Yeah, that's about how I figured it'd go." He straightened his expression, though a hint of amusement lingered around the eyes. "Sorry, you were saying?"

It'd be so easy to talk about Yancy instead of what had happened. But he didn't do that.

"We were on patrol. Our other vehicle stopped to defuse an IED we spotted, so we went on, working the perimeter. I was driving. Yance was up top on the gun." He wanted to throw up the few bites of croissant he'd managed and the few sips of chai latte, which now seemed sickeningly sweet and rich as they sat heavy in his stomach. "I... I should have seen it. I've seen _hundreds_ of the fucking things. It was right fucking there, and I didn't see it and drove right--"

"Ray, stop. Ray?"

Strong hands touched his, prying at them for some reason, and he shook off the horrible memory to stare down at those hands. What were they doing? Whose were they?

Chuck's hands. And they were prying at his because he'd clenched _his_ hands into fists, his forearms knotted with strain, his breath hitching in his chest. Jesus. He was full-on hyperventilating and hadn't even known.

People were probably staring. God, he was embarrassing the shit out of himself. Out of Chuck.

This was why he didn't fuck with The Schedule. This was why he didn't talk about it. This was--

"Ray? Please, stop, yeah? You'll hurt yourself." More prying. "Raleigh?"

He blinked, some of the disorder fading, though he still couldn't get a decent breath.

"There you are, mate. That's better. We don't have to talk about it anymore, yeah?"

The world returned, the colors blurred but getting brighter. He closed his eyes and focused on slowing down his breathing, trying to take deeper breaths, like the VA shrink told him. He liked the VA shrink better than the civilian one he'd briefly tried.

Not that either had done him much good.

"Jesus, no wonder you didn't want to go there. Sorry I brought it up, yeah?" Those hands still gripped his, their hard grip strangely reassuring. "Let's talk about literally anything else."

He didn't open his eyes, but he did force himself to communicate. That was important, the VA guy insisted. Even if he could only say that he couldn't talk yet, say it. Communicate. It was a step back, and every step back counted.

So he spoke. "Even if I wanna talk about American football?"

The laugh sounded a little too hard to be natural, but there was relief in it, too, and the kid finally let go of his hands to sit back on his own side of the table. "Whatever you want, yeah? Even if you're the literal worst for liking such a bullshit sport."

And so, as Raleigh slowly pulled himself together, they did just that. They talked about football.

And Chuck didn't complain about it once.


	6. Chapter 6

"An hour or so, you said."

Raleigh rolled his eyes, trying to snarf down his protein bar and escape before Yancy could really get going.

"A fake date, you said."

Where the hell were his running shoes? He always left them in the same place. Who would have moved them?

"And yet you come strolling in at midnight--"

"Ten thirty!"

"--and all I get is an 'It was fine, lemme help you take off your leg'?"

"Where are my goddamn shoes?"

Yancy crossed his arms. Both of them. He could connect his prosthetics by himself; it was getting them off that was still sometimes a problem. He needed both hands to get the leg off, but getting into bed after with just one arm and one leg was... tricky.

"You can have your shoes when I get some details."

Rolling his eyes, he gave up the futile search and met the inquisition head-on. "There _are_ no details. We just lost track of time."

Unimpressed, Yancy raised an eyebrow. "How, exactly?"

How, indeed? Once they stopped trading backstory, they'd gotten along so well he hadn't even noticed the time passing. When not being a jerk, Chuck was sarcastically funny, blindingly intelligent, and weirdly easy to talk to, despite his quick temper and ready willingness to take offense. They'd moved from football to robots to robot football and on to science fiction, which they were surprised to find they both loved. Once they started trading favorite books and movies, Raleigh almost didn't notice ordering a refill and then another while Chuck downed cup after cup of coffee before switching over to water to give his kidneys a break.

"Earth to Raleigh."

Shaking his head, he brought himself back to the present, looking sheepish. Yancy, however, was well-used to his occasional lapses and only inched that lone eyebrow up further.

"This _is_ just fake dating, right?"

"Of course it is." Rolling his eyes, he leaned back against nearest wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "But it'll be easier to fake it if we get along and know things about each other."

"Uh-huh." But the eyebrow dropped back down to its usual place, and Yancy grinned. "I take it he wasn't a jerk the whole time?"

Huffing a chuckle, he lowered his head and looked down at his socked feet. "He really isn't so bad. He's just an only child who was carted all over the world after his mother died. Hard to make friends like that or learn how to get along with people."

"Aw. That's actually kinda sweet."

He blinked, shooting his brother an incredulous look. Said brother rolled his eyes.

"Not that he's socially inept, dork. That you're okay with excusing it."

"Can I have my shoes now?"

"Fine." But that was definitely a smirk, not an irritated look. "They're in the very back of the closet under the sleeping bags."

He huffed, grudgingly impressed. "How the hell did you even get them back there?"

The enormous jerk winked. "Determination."

After digging out his running shoes and tying them up tight, he headed for the door, only to pause as Yancy called out from the kitchen.

"Hey, can you stop by the farmer's market for some tomatoes and fresh basil? I wanna try a spaghetti sauce recipe I found last night for lunch. Like... four pounds of tomatoes."

"Can do. Back in a bit!"

He should probably be glad that, where Raleigh had turned to admittedly obsessive strength and stamina training and eventually to writing, Yancy had taken up cooking to fight back the dark. It had been touch and go with the baking phase -- even Raleigh's workouts couldn't entirely prevent a weight gain with a constant supply of cakes, cookies, breads, muffins, and the like on hand -- but main dishes had eventually caught his interest, and they'd tried a little bit of everything since.

One week, they'd eaten nothing but Indian food, though Yancy mercifully eased back on the fieriest spices. The next, French cuisine. Raleigh drew the line at escargot, even though Yancy teased him that he was half French and should enjoy them by default. They'd spent an entire month on Chinese and Thai and Japanese food and all the infinite variety.

The German phase had been mercifully short. White asparagus was too damn hard to find, and Yancy's digestive system sternly objected to more than one variety of wurst. They did, however, drink entirely too much imported German beer, thanks to Tendo having contacts in damn near every country on the planet.

At any rate, Yancy asking Raleigh to stop at the farmer's market for some ingredient or other was a fairly common occurrence, so it never felt like a deviation from The Schedule. He especially liked hitting Mako's favorite stall -- the natural health and body care cart. The goggled weirdo who owned it sold homemade soaps and lotions and shampoos and the like, scented with essential oils and named after moods instead of their useage. When she was home from college, she'd join him on his morning run just to stop and smell all the new things.

This particular morning run seemed to take no time at all, though he took the same care with his block count as always, and before he knew it, he had a net bag full of gorgeously plump, deeply red tomatoes and a packet of fresh basil leaves and was perusing the shelves of the health cart, as Mako called it, looking for Mako's bamboo shampoo because his was running a little low.

"Try the Australian sandalwood, mate."

Blushing at being caught, he winced and turned to face his fate. However, instead of looking smug or ready to taunt him for shopping for supposedly girlie products, Chuck only grinned, unleashing both dimples. It was almost too much for this early in the morning. While Raleigh was embarrassed and sweaty.

"The Indian shite is supposed to be better, but for all I can tell, it just costs more."

No snark, no jokes. Huh.

Rallying, he managed a bit of a smirk. "Are you sure you're not just being loyal to the ol' homeland?"

The grin deepened. "Fucking-A right, I am."

He laughed, surprised by the easy admission. "What are you doing here?"

"A friend of Dad's is flying back in tonight, so he asked if I'd do a bit of shopping for him so he can get the guest room aired out and changed."

"Flying _back_ in?"

"It's a bit fiddly, yeah." Chuck stepped closer, running his eye over a shelf of lotions and therapeutic massage oils. "See, the bloke lives here, but he sublet his apartment to some friends of his whilst he's away. He's staying with his daughter, who's at university in Japan. Since he's just in for a visit, we're putting him up."

"Ah." Something caught at his attention, and he tried to clear his mind in hopes of isolating it. He sometimes had trouble focusing on things like that. "His daughter's in school in Japan?"

"Adopted daughter, actually, but yeah. She's from there originally and wanted to go back."

He blinked. "I don't... this may be a weird question, but... would her name be Mako Mori?"

Chuck jerked his head around to stare at him. "How the fuck...?"

Unbelievable. "I guess it really is a small world. She's a friend of mine. Stacker Pentecost ran some of the ops my unit was in on, though I probably haven't talked to him directly in years. And he sublet his apartment to the Wei triplets, also sort of friends of mine."

Blinking, the kid continued to stare. "Holy shit."

"Right?"

"No, mate, you don't...." Chuck shook his head and tried again. "Does the name Hercules Hansen mean anything to you?"

His eyes widened. "Uh, yeah, actually. Yance and I ran a mission with him a few years back. Right before... well."

"Huh." Shaking his head, the kid stared for a long moment. Then he barked a short laugh. "That's my old man."

For a second, Raleigh thought he would sit down, whether he had a chair or not. Thankfully, before his knees unhinged on him, he got ahold of himself and huffed.

"Is that weird? It feels really weird."

Especially given what Chuck had told him about how much he hated his youth, being shipped all over the world, rootless and motherless and friendless. Raleigh had been impressed with Herc Hansen and his brother, Scott. How...?

Thankfully, Chuck seemed to roll some of his inclination toward temper. "It's definitely fucking weird." Then, he grinned, and everything was all right again. "Wait 'til I tell him who I bumped into at the gym."

But he demurred, picking up a bottle of mint-scented shampoo and fiddling with the cap. "Oh, I doubt he'd remember. We were just kids, and he'd been on so many missions already." But that might be a tender subject, so he quickly changed it. "Jesus. This stuff smells like someone shoved a peppermint up my nose."

Rolling his eyes, the kid reached past him, selected a bottle seemingly at random, and flicked it open. "Give it a smell."

He did, then almost jerked away. It was... a bold scent, to be sure, but once the initial surprise faded, he... wanted to smell it again. Spicy, yes. Kind of woodsy. But there was a sweetness to it, too, almost like an aftertaste. It was a strong scent, almost like a good cologne, but with none of the alcohol undertones.

"Huh."

"Nice, yeah?"

He tilted the bottle to look at the name. _Centered,_ the label said. And yes, weirdly, he did feel more focused, though probably only because it had caught his interest. He turned the bottle around to read the back label and snorted, shooting the kid a droll look.

"Australian sandalwood." The Jerk had the nerve to wink. "I know what I'm about, yeah?"

He rolled his eyes, but he didn't put the bottle back. Instead, he reached for his wallet while Chuck reached for a bar of glycerine soap from the same shelf. He waited while the kid paid, then just... sort of... stuck with him while he picked through the vegetables, bought a free range roasting hen, and turned up his nose at the blackberry and blueberry selection. Raleigh, on the other hand, spontaneously bought a carton of blackberries in hopes that Yancy could be persuaded to make a small cobbler.

As they finally left, it occurred to him that he'd been gone far longer than he'd expected, so he bid Chuck a hasty but not impatient farewell and jogged back home, checking his phone every block, just in case. Of course, in all likelihood, nothing was wrong, but still. He was usually so careful to not lose track of the time.

Thus, when he burst into the house and ran through to the kitchen as if it were on fire and there was an infant, a puppy, _and_ a kitten inside, Yancy only looked up from where he was chopping an onion and blinked.

"Everything okay?"

His breath left him in relief. "Yeah, sorry. Everything's fine."

The surprise faded and Yancy's eyebrows drew together. "Took you long enough. Was the tomato guy not set up yet or something?"

Neither the rack nor a hot poker would get the truth out of him, so he tried to shrug naturally as he laid the tomatoes and basil on the island. The small paper bag -- recycled, of course -- with his new shampoo went behind his back as casually as possible.

"It was busy. I got to talking with the... uh... the herb guy. Herbalist? What the hell do you call it?"

"How would I know?"

Thankfully, Yancy went back to his chopping, so Raleigh made his escape to clean up for his writing session.

And if he used his new Centered shampoo... well... Yancy didn't notice.

\--

He was just stretching in preparation for getting up after his writing session when his phone buzzed at him. He looked at it for a moment before picking it up. It wasn't unheard of for Yancy to text him from the next room, just to be a jerk without actually interrupting.

But it wasn't a text from Yance. It was from Chuck.

**_Weird question. Is your last name Becket?_ **

He blinked. He supposed it was a fair question, considering he'd only learned the kid's last name that morning. So, mentally shrugging, he typed a response.

**_Are you psychic or something?_ **

The response didn't take long: **_No, but my old man just threw a shit fit when I said I met a bloke named Raleigh who'd met him on mission a few years back._**

Wait, so... Herc actually remembered him? Them? They'd only even really met at the mission briefing and then again at the debriefing when it was over.

Another text came through before he could decide what to say: **_His response was, and I quote: Raleigh? Raleigh BECKET? Jesus Christ, ring him up right now!_**

Not sure what to make of such a vehement response, Raleigh gave up texting and called. The kid picked up before the second ring.

"So what the fuck, mate?"

He settled back in his chair. "I honestly don't now. I didn't think he'd remember me. Us."

"Fuck that, Ray. He wants you and your brother to get round here for dinner tonight. I told him that wasn't bloody likely, but he's on fire over it." The voice changed from irritated to curious. "Just who are you?"

Uncomfortable, he crossed one arm over his chest and squirmed a bit in his seat. "Nobody to get all worked up over. Maybe he's confusing me with someone else."

"I doubt that, mate. He sounded pretty goddamn sure." The kid paused, then sounded hesitant when he spoke again. "Would... I know it's Friday night and you probably have plans, but... is there a chance you could come? Both of you? He's... never seen him this worked up, yeah?"

Friday night was supper at the diner around the corner. The place was sort of shitty and none too clean, but they did an excellent country fried steak. And it didn't bring up any memories that he'd be forced to face while Herc Hansen and Stacker Goddamn Pentecost looked on him -- on them -- with pity over a roast chicken with the squash and carrots and baby red potatoes Chuck had picked out earlier.

"Raleigh?"

Until he took a deep breath, he hadn't realized he hadn't been breathing. "Uh... I dunno, Chuck. I'll... I'll have to check with Yance on that one."

"No, no, I get it." Again, the kid sounded hesitant. "Just... the invitation's out there, yeah?"

"Thanks." He swallowed hard. "I appreciate it. I really do. Tell your dad that, okay?"

"Will do."

Raleigh sat at his desk for a long time after he hung up, staring at his phone. Staring at nothing, really. One little change to The Schedule, and all this. Something as small as Tendo injuring his knee, and everything he'd tried to leave behind came swarming back. In physical form, no less.

He had no doubt Herc Hansen would be all sympathy and kindness. The man had been a soldier far longer than Raleigh or Yancy. He knew what could happen as well as anyone. Better than most, if the rumors about why Scott had been summarily discharged and shipped away were true.

But... could he handle that sympathy? That kindness? He didn't deserve it, he knew. But... Yancy did. Would Yance want to go?

Sighing, he picked up his phone and stood away from his desk. He even remembered to bring along the plate and fork Yance had brought him while he was writing. The spaghetti had been amazing, of course, tangy from the fresh tomatoes and mouth-wateringly spiced with crisp, fresh sweet basil. He should have come down to the kitchen to eat with his brother, but Yancy never begrudged him writing time when he was in the zone.

Such a good brother like that.

So he washed his dishes and put them in the rack to dry, then headed for the living room. Yance was sprawled on the comfortably over-stuffed couch, reading a book while a movie played quietly in the background. A glass of sun tea sweated onto its coaster near at hand. It was such a normal scene, something so familiar from when they were kids, that it seemed incredible to hear the quiet whir of the arm assembly's servos as false fingers carefully turned a page.

They both had tablets they could read on. Special equipment afforded them because of their honorable medical discharges and the nature of their resulting disabilities. But Yancy's home health aide insisted that he read print books. The fine motor control required to turn the pages without crushing or tearing them would help in other mundane tasks. And it had to be learned, either way.

So Yancy read books. So did Raleigh, mostly out of solidarity. Though he, too, needed work on his fine motor skills. At least on the left side.

"Hey, kid. Why the long face?"

Grinning a little, he dropped down into the equally overstuffed armchair and slumped. "I didn't mention this morning that I bumped into Chuck at the farmer's market."

The book made a quick trip over the back of the couch as Yancy sat up. "Tell me more."

He snorted. "Don't get your boxers in a twist. It was just a fluke. But we figured out we knew some of the same people -- Mako and Stacker, mainly -- and it turns out...." Some of the levity faded. "It turns out his father is Herc Hansen."

Blue eyes a shade darker than his own went wide, and Yance whistled. "Manila, right?"

He nodded. "So Chuck told his dad he'd bumped into a guy named Raleigh who'd been on a mission with him a while back, and... well... the upshot is that Herc wants to know if we can come to dinner tonight. Stacker's flying in and will be staying with them a few days, I guess."

"...Oh."

"Yeah."

He watched as myriad expressions crossed that scarred -- but still handsome; still and always the pretty Becket -- face. Yancy usually seemed to deal better, but it was always there. The knowledge that he used to be the charming, confident flirt, young and strong and invincible, and now, he wasn't.

It was why Raleigh did the major shopping. Why Yancy usually only left the house to go to the diner, and even then, he always wore a long-sleeved shirt to cover as much of the arm as possible and sat with the damaged side toward the wall if he could. Their usual waitress never commented and flirted gently with them both, just like she would any other young men at her tables.

Other people weren't so kind. Other people stared.

"Do you want to go?"

Raleigh's mouth quirked on something that wasn't a grin. "Do I ever want to go anywhere?"

Yance rolled his eyes. "No, I meant... you and Chuck...?"

"Really?" He let his head fall back against the cushion. "No, I don't want to meet my fake boyfriend's father."

"You two seem to get along, is all I'm saying."

"Yance, please."

"All right, all right." Yancy laid back own against the couch's cushy arm. "It's... it's been a long time since Manila."

He nodded. "It has."

"I don't...." The poor guy swallowed hard and stared up at the ceiling. "I don't know if I can."

He nodded again. "Neither do I."

They were quiet for a moment before Yancy spoke again. "How long is Stacker in town?"

"I can ask."

He'd pocketed his phone, so he pulled it out and sent Chuck a quick text. The answer came back soon enough.

"Chuck says he's here until Wednesday."

Yance nodded, still looking up at the ceiling. "Maybe... another time? Tonight is... too soon."

Raleigh definitely understood. He wasn't in the right headspace for sympathy and reminiscing, either. He wasn't sure he ever would be.

So he nodded again. "I'll tell him. Don't worry about it, okay?"

He hauled himself up out of the chair, then went around the back of the couch to pick up the hurled book. He grinned wryly as he eyed the cover. _I, Robot and Other Stories_ by Isaac Asimov.

_Oh, Yancy._

So his expression had cleared greatly when he leaned over the back and looked down at his big brother. Scarred, yes. Still Yancy. Still the guy who used to lay on the roof with him in summer and talk about constellations. Still the guy who'd always been the shutterbug while they were on vacation.

Not that he'd picked up a camera in years. Not much to photograph inside the house.

Yancy looked up at him, the pensive look softening to a hint of a grin. "There's blackberry cobbler on the counter. Should still be warm. Add a scoop of vanilla ice cream."

"I'll bring you some, too."

The hint of a grin deepened. "Too late."

He chuckled and stood away, taking out his phone again as he headed for the kitchen.

**_We have plans tonight, but definitely before ol' Stacks leaves, okay?_ **

He was cutting an enormous piece of cobbler -- between him and Yancy, the damn thing was already half gone -- when his phone buzzed again.

**_Right, I'll tell them. See you tomorrow?_ **

He grinned. **_Same bat time, same bat channel._**

The response was almost instantaneous. **_The fuck does that mean?_**

Chuckling, he didn't answer. He had vanilla ice cream to scoop.

**_Ray?_ **

He loved cobbler. He really did. Yancy worked wonders.

**_Ray??_ **

The ice cream melted down into the crust and crevices, sweet and creamy to counter the tanginess of the berries.

**_YOU ARE SUCH AN ASSHOLE._ **

Perfection.


	7. Chapter 7

Raleigh strolled into the gym with a grin on his face. He'd had a good writing day, and Yancy had made French toast for breakfast. And while last night at the diner had been oddly melancholy, they'd watched _Die Hard_ when they got home, and everything was fine again.

Thus he wasn't too perturbed when the lady Kaidanovsky waved him over as he headed for the ellipticals. He glanced around on his way to the counter, but it didn't look like Chuck had arrived yet.

"Hello, little Becket." She smiled, exposing all those teeth. "I see you and angry possessive red jerk at farmer's market yesterday."

His eyebrows rose. All their fine plans to sit across the street at the coffee shop to be easily seen, and a chance meeting at the farmer's market got the prize.

"Yeah?"

"Look very chummy, yes?"

The surprise faded on a grin. "I told you he isn't that bad once you get to know him."

Her eyes glittered. "Why would I know him? Is your boyfriend."

He rolled his eyes. "Was there something you needed, Miz Kaidanovsky? Is it paperwork time again?"

"No, no. Not until August." But she smiled again. Chuck was right. She had a lot of very sharp teeth. "Please, is Sasha, yes?"

His eyebrows rose again. "Oh. Uh... thank you. Sasha. And I'm Raleigh."

Her smile went from sharkish to... fond? He thought that might be fondness.

"Yes, so you say on first day, little Becket. Angry possessive red jerk is here."

He turned to look and grinned a greeting, then sobered and shot the sneaky sharkwoman a look when he realized she'd done it on purpose. At least he'd grinned instead of scowling at the sight of his so-called boyfriend. If she was trying to catch him in a lie, she'd have to try harder than that.

Miz Kaidanovsky -- Sasha -- smirked and turned to go into the office.

Rolling his eyes, he wove his way over to the ellipticals, where Chuck was waiting for him. The expected inquisition began as soon as he was within harsh whispering distance.

"What was that all about?"

He grinned and didn't bother whispering. "She called me over to say she saw us at the farmer's market and we looked awfully chummy. That's all."

The kid blinked and let off the clandestine air. "Oi, the farmer's market? Not the coffee shop?"

"Right? After all that trouble to be right there where they couldn't possibly miss us."

"Huh."

They climbed up on their separate ellipticals and started treading off into the waves and spirals as had become usual. Grinning to himself, Raleigh wondered how long it would be until Chuck said something. Because the kid _always_ said something.

Sure enough: "Did you stop your weight training or something?"

Okay, not what he expected. But he should probably expect that from Chuck. He cleared his throat.

"I, uh... just on hold."

"What for?"

He shot the kid a look, but Chuck only looked genuinely curious. And really, what was the point of hiding at this point? Chuck already knew enough about what had happened.

But it was still hard to talk about it. "Tendo, a friend of mine, usually spots for me. He hurt his knee, though, and has to have some rehab on it before he can come back."

"Tendo, eh?" The kid frowned a bit in thought. "That the bloke with the Elvis hair?"

He laughed, startled out of his reserve. "I guess so, yeah. Never thought of it like that, but I can see it."

That got a fleeting grin before the serious look returned. "I could spot for you, yeah? I reckon you don't like getting behind."

Flushing a bit at the acuity of the observation, he cleared his throat again and hoped Chuck mistook the color for exertion. "I, uh... my left arm is... isn't right. Sometimes it just gives out on me."

Realization dawned. "Oh, from the... right."

Flustered, the kid left off, but Raleigh suspected it was only a matter of time. Sure enough, not five minutes passed before he spoke again, finally starting to puff a little.

"I could still spot for you. Forewarned is forearmed, yeah?"

Oddly enough, Raleigh... believed him. Chuck could have gotten up and left when Raleigh made a scene at the coffee shop, but he hadn't. He hadn't even been rude or told him to get over it or done anything The Jerk would presumably do when embarrassed in public. No, the kid had tried to comfort him, to keep him from accidentally hurting himself.

If Chuck said he'd keep a sharper eye out, Raleigh thought maybe he could trust him. At least that far.

And he'd been quiet too long. The kid was starting to look awkward.

"Maybe, yeah." He forced at least part of a grin. "We can try it later?"

The relief again transformed that ready-to-be-an-asshole face into dimples and freckles and bright eyes. Raleigh couldn't help but grin for real in response.

"Right, then."

They tread on for a while, and surprisingly, it was Raleigh who broke the quiet this time. He wasn't even sure why. It just seemed like something he needed to say.

"I used that shampoo."

He caught the kid's raised eyebrows out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah?"

Smiling a bit, he refused to look away from the waves and swirls on the wall. "I like it. It's good."

"Told you, didn't I?" Damn if the kid didn't look pleased as punch. "Australian sandalwood. Don't bother with that Indian shite, yeah?"

He snorted, though he couldn't help but be amused. "Yes, yes. Angry possessive red jerk is wise as fuck."

Considering it got a genuine laugh out of the kid, he figured it was a mic drop moment and returned his focus to his workout.

\--

Raleigh's shoulder felt good today. He hadn't overworked in a while. Hadn't really worked it at all, other than the slight resistance of the elliptical. It should hold up fine.

However, lying on his back with his hands gripping the bar, he couldn't quite bring himself to actually lift said bar up off the stays. Chuck hovered overhead, watching with guarded eyes and a deliberately stoic expression, waiting to see if he'd do it. If he'd actually heft the weight up and bench press like he'd done a hundred, a thousand, maybe ten thousand times before.

To his credit, the kid didn't say a word and didn't look impatient. He just... waited.

Objectively, Chuck was physically stronger than Tendo. He'd have a better chance of easily lifting the weight away if Raleigh's shoulder gave out. And Raleigh logically knew the kid would never just stand there and watch if it happened. Chuck would help, and immediately.

But still, he hesitated.

And Chuck didn't push.

He'd put on a good fifty pounds less than he usually lifted. It'd be fine. He could do this.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted the bar and adjusted until his arms were vertical. Left shoulder felt fine. Took the strain easily. One press, everything fine. Two presses, still fine. Ten presses, and his muscles warmed to the familiar exertion. Some of his tenseness faded as he let himself realize that this wasn't any different from any other time. Yes, it wasn't Tendo, but Chuck would help, if he needed it.

As if sensing Raleigh's comfort level growing, Chuck relaxed, as well.

"What's your max?"

Monitoring his breathing carefully, he managed to huff a laugh between reps. "Right arm or left arm?"

"Ha ha, jackass."

He did another five presses before answering. "I haven't maxed in years. I usually work up to about two hundred on a good day."

He currently had on one-fifty and had no intention of adding to it after more than a week without lifting, but Chuck didn't point it out.

"Nice. I don't go much more than that myself, honestly."

"What's _your_ max?"

The carefully neutral expression quirked on a wry grin. "I did three reps of two-eighty once and regretted it. I was sore for days, yeah? Not sure I didn't pull something."

Though he chuckled, Raleigh could definitely see the kid being eager to take on too much. Broad shoulders notwithstanding, he got the impression Chuck was always over-willing to prove his worth.

After that, the usual banter flowed with ease, and Raleigh almost forgot that it was Chuck instead of Tendo making sure he didn't drop a hundred and fifty pounds across his ribcage. They even switched out, Raleigh spotting for Chuck, who added the fifty pounds Raleigh had eschewed, and kept right on blabbing away. They moved to other machines, switching out as needed, talking like old cronies and barely noticing their fellow gym-goers.

And, for the first time since he'd been coming to this gym, Raleigh didn't go into the private showers. He didn't even think of it. They were talking about _The Iron Giant,_ and it wasn't until he ducked his face under the good, hot water streaming down that he realized where he was. Out in the open. Naked with nowhere to hide.

He froze. The scars. Chuck would see. _Everyone_ would see.

Jesus Christ.

"Oi, Raleigh? You all right then?"

He couldn't cover. He could only stare, wide-eyed and feeling like the world's biggest idiot. Like a baby deer in the oncoming headlights of an eighteen-wheeler.

"Jesus, mate, you seen a ghost or something?" Then, the kid's eyes dropped, and.... "Oh."

Of course it had taken the kid that long to notice. It wasn't polite to check another guy out in the showers. Everyone kept their eyes to themselves. Raleigh almost laughed, but he just didn't have it in him. Not with Chuck being unable to not see now that he'd looked.

After a long, painfully quiet moment, Chuck managed a quiet murmur. "Almost lost it, didn't you?"

He nodded, unable to speak. His left arm was a roadmap of scars all the way down to his forearm, over his shoulder, down his chest and ribs, down over his shoulderblade. He wore t-shirts, because the scars on his forearm weren't that obvious, but he never, ever wore tank shirts or low-sides.

Burn scars and shrapnel scars. A mess of gnarled white tissue in sharp contrast to the smooth, light tan of the rest of him.

Chuck's hand lifted, but he quickly snatched it back. "Uh... guessing it still hurts a bitch sometimes, yeah?"

He swallowed hard, but his voice was hoarse when he forced out an answer. "It does."

It was obviously an effort, but the kid forced himself back to his own washing, turning his face up to the spray. "Well, goes without saying I'll spot you any time, yeah?"

No, The Jerk really wasn't bad at all. Once you got to know him.

"Thanks."

"Welcome."

They didn't talk about it anymore.

\--

He was quiet during dinner. Yancy had made sausage ravioli to go with the rest of the tomato basil sauce from the day before. It was amazing, and his enjoyment of it could easily have accounted for his reticence.

Unfortunately, Yancy knew him better than that.

"Okay, spit it out. Something happened."

Sighing, he didn't even try to pretend. His jerk of a brother would just keep at it until he eventually gave in, and he really wasn't in the mood to go the long way around.

"It's nothing, really." He prodded at the last ravioli on his plate, debating getting up for more and not sure if he really wanted more or if he just wanted something to do. "I... uh... Chuck got an eyeful of my scars today."

The potential for playfulness faded, and Yancy leaned back in his chair across the table. "Ah."

"Just got to talking, ya know? Didn't even realize I wasn't in the stalls for a shower. Then... boom."

Yancy's eyebrows drew together. "Did he overreact?"

Glancing up, he caught the ready-to-be-pissed look and huffed. "No. You don't have to beat the shit out of him." He tilted his head to one side, looking off into the living room. "Actually... he reacted better than I thought he would. One comment, a good, hard look, and we went back to talking about _The Iron Giant."_

"Not so much The Jerk, then?"

He shot his brother another look, but Yance just looked... careful. "I keep telling people he's not so bad once you get to know him."

A tentative grin, like the _real_ jerk here was testing whether or not snark was appropriate yet. "Guess I'll get my chance Monday, then."

Yes, he and Chuck had settled on Monday, through much texting with both Herc and Yancy, before they parted ways at the gym. It was far enough in the future that neither of them had to think about it right now, but close enough that they could start getting themselves into the right mindset to be sociable. Neither of them were used to being sociable these days.

Raleigh closed his eyes and shook his head. "Please don't embarrass me."

"When have I ever done that?"

He cracked one eyelid open in a narrow glare. "Every single chance you've ever gotten."

Yancy tried to look innocent and failed miserably. "Okay, okay. I promise I won't Big Brother Interrogate your not-boyfriend at a big family dinner."

"It's not a family dinner!"

One dark blonde eyebrow rose.

He rolled his eyes. "It's father and son, yes, but it's also Stacker, who is _not_ family, thanks."

"And Tendo."

He blinked. "Since when is Tendo coming?"

Oh, shit. That slow Grinch smile had never once meant anything good. "Since I called him while you were moping in your room and told him we're having a get-to-know-you dinner with The Jerk and his father because ol' Stacks is back in town."

He paled. He literally felt the blood drain out of his face. "You didn't tell him about--"

"Oh, yes. I most certainly did."

Covering his face with his hands, he slumped so far down in his seat that he almost slid right out of it. And sort of wanted to.

"That's it. I fucking disown you. You are no longer my brother."

Apparently unconcerned, Yancy the Giant Asshole only snickered. "C'mon, kid. He's been bored out of his mind, stuck on the couch all week. I had to give him _something_ to keep his spirits up."

"Disowned."

"You should have heard how high his voice went when I told him."

_"Dishonor."_

"Oh, man, he laughed _so hard_ when I told him about the whole coffee shop escapade."

"Dishonor on _you._ Dishonor on your _cow."_

The rotten bastard laughed, and Raleigh gave up wishing himself into another dimension to glare at his walking curse of a brother through his fingers. Yancy didn't get to lighten up and laugh like that very often anymore.

So maybe it wasn't so bad to see it up close.

Still a giant asshole, though.

"Anyway, he's really looking forward to it, and apparently, Herc was of a 'the more, the merrier' mind on the subject."

Giving up on irritation, he sat forward and tooled his fork through the sauce on his plate. "When did all this happen?"

"I texted Stacker." The glowing amusement turned into a smirk. "Needless to say, he was a little surprised to hear from me."

That was probably the understatement of the year, though Raleigh didn't see the venerable Stacker Pentecost showing any real shock on that stoic face of his. When he'd told Chuck he hadn't spoken to ol' Stacks in years, he hadn't said he basically hadn't spoken to the man since his medical discharge. It wasn't ill will, exactly. He just... wanted to distance himself. From everything but Mako, who was the one good thing he'd gained from that time of his life and the only reason he and Yance still had Pentecost's number.

"Anyway, once he heard about Tendo's knee thing, he agreed that we couldn't leave the poor guy out."

Wincing, Raleigh looked up from his plate. "Did you tell him...?"

Yancy frowned, then relaxed as he got the gist of the question. "No way, kid. That's between you and Chuck. I have no idea what he's told Herc about you two, and there's no way I'd gossip to ol' Stacks."

Relieved, he let his shoulders slump back down to their usual position. "Thanks."

"C'mon, Rals." There was the half-smile that had won Yancy Becket the attention of whatever gender he felt like at the moment. _"I_ may give you hell, but there's no way I'll let anyone else do it."

"Anyone but Tendo."

A shrug. "Tendo's practically me."

Shrugging himself, Raleigh let that one go. At this point, yes. Tendo was like a brother to him. They'd all been friends since the golden days.

Suddenly decided, he got up to get himself some more ravioli. "Need a refill?"

"Duh."

Grinning, he scruffed his jerk of a brother's hair, then picked up his plate and headed for the stove. He managed to set the plates down before Yancy the Giant Asshole struck again.

"So, when he was checking out your scars, did The Jerk check out the rest of you?"

He'd picked up the ladle, but he dropped it back down again with a clunk. "Yancy Becket, I swear to God--"

Yancy's snickers cut him off, and the whole thing started over again.

And despite his irritation, Raleigh couldn't help but grin.


	8. Chapter 8

His phone buzzed.

Frowning, Raleigh tried to ignore it and finish his paragraph. He was in the zone, baby. The words flowed like wine at a bacchanal. He was _in it._

His phone buzzed again.

His frown deepened to a scowl, and he tossed the infernal device a look that should have shattered it to a million pieces. If Yancy was fucking around with him again, he'd--

It buzzed again, and it wasn't Yancy.

His concentration broke, and he sat back with a grunt. Chuck texting him on a Sunday was just new enough to catch his curiosity. So, he picked up the damn phone and swiped to the messages.

_**Ray.** _

_**Ray, dammit, answer me. It's important.** _

**_They're not buying it. We're gonna have to fuck on the desk in the office._ **

Blinking, he stared at the message for a long moment, completely blank as to what he should do about it. It was just so... out of nowhere. Was it a joke? Was it a hint? Was it a blatant come-on? Did any of that even matter?

Finally, he made his fingers type the only question that seemed to matter: **_What??_**

**_I told you, mate - it's WEIRD when you're not here. The sheila's giving me the evil eye, and the big bloke just asked if I've been helping you with your flexibility._ **

Staring instead of blinking now, he leaned an elbow on the desk and covered part of his face with his hand. Only one thing was certain at the moment.

Yancy must never know.

**_Chuck, we are not fucking on their desk. You do remember the FAKE part of this fake relationship, right?_ **

The response was about as instantaneous as a longish text could be.

**_Jesus, asshole! Don't state it right out like that, yeah? What if they read my texts??_ **

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Unfortunately, to respond, he had to open his eyes back up.

**_Yes, Chuck. Because that's the most important part of this conversation._ **

The response was a little longer in arriving this time. Unfortunately, it didn't clear things up.

**_Fine. We can fuck in the showers instead._ **

Shaking his head again, he had to admire the kid's audacity.

**_I'm deleting this conversation forever._ **

**_Fat lot of help you are._ **

**_DELETING._ **

His phone finally lay silent in his hand, and he laid it down on the desk, still shaking his head. He had no idea what to think about the conversation he absolutely deleted from his phone before he forgot because his asshole brother was a nosy prick with no boundaries. On one hand, the idea was kind of hilarious, and Yancy would never forgive him if he found out Raleigh hadn't shared it with him. On the other hand, it didn't sound like Chuck would be averse to the scenario, even having seen the mess all over his left side.

And that was... huh.

Frankly, he didn't even want to think about what that was. It had been way, way too long to even think in that direction. Chuck was entertaining and unpredictable and surprisingly kind in a blustery sort of way, but that was it. Raleigh was doing him a favor, and the kid was trying to be nice about it.

He had no intention of asking for a favor in return.

Smiling softly and a little bittersweet, he turned back to his story and stared at the screen. He'd stopped mid-sentence, but he could already tell the flow was gone for the day. For one thing, his fake boyfriend scenario on the page had a definite story arc, where the weirdness that had become his life was just spiralling nonsense.

For another, the guys on the page were actually attracted to each other.

So he sighed, saved his progress without even finishing the sentence, and put his laptop to sleep. He was done for the day.

And if Yancy noticed that bittersweet smile when he joined him for lunch, he mercifully didn't comment on it.


	9. Chapter 9

In a fit of nerves, Raleigh had stopped during his morning run to text Chuck about Yancy's condition. On the one hand, he didn't want to make a big deal of it in hopes of everyone else following suit so Yance wouldn't feel uncomfortable with all the attention. On the other hand, like Chuck himself had said, forewarned was forearmed, and he didn't want anyone reacting badly out of surprise and making Yance feel like shit.

Chuck's response had been brief and to the point: **_Jesus. Okay, I'll warn Dad._**

But now it was now, and Yance hadn't wanted to walk all the way there and risk getting sore too early in the evening, and Raleigh really, _really_ didn't like to drive these days, so his nerves were already at the breaking point by the time they actually stood on the Hansens' stoop. Everything would be fine. These were, for the most part, old war buddies with similar stories to tell. No one would deliberately make it awkward or upsetting.

And then Chuck answered the door, grinning and impatient with those dimples on full display. "Oi, took you long enough, yeah? Get in here before Dad gives himself a stroke thinking you changed your mind."

The kid hauled Raleigh in bodily by the arm, then stopped and frowned and gave Yancy a once-over. Raleigh held his breath.

Then: "Yancy, yeah? Ray says you're kind of a dick, but I'm willing to withold judgment."

Just like that, Raleigh was suddenly oh, so glad for Chuck's social ineptness and lack of a filter because Yancy, who had definitely stiffened at the frank appraisal, suddenly snorted and relaxed entirely.

"Funny, he keeps telling me you're _not_ a jerk. I guess I'll return the favor and hold that thought."

"Bonzer." Since he still had Raleigh by the arm, he gave a tug and headed further into the brownstone. "I swear my old man's acting like I'm finally bringing home a prom date. I had to talk him out of wearing a goddamn tie, for Christ's sake."

Yancy snickered, and Raleigh could only sigh. He was grateful. He really was.

But he was also super-embarrassed.

"Oi, Dad! They're here!"

"Manners, kid! Jesus!"

The Brothers Becket exchanged bemused grins as Raleigh was hauled bodily along and Yancy followed behind. Raleigh hadn't been able to reconcile the Herc Hansen he'd met so briefly in Manila with the guy who'd dragged an unwilling and increasingly less well-adjusted Chuck from base to base and country to country, but a single exchange between the two convinced him. They were definitely father and son.

Tendo and Stacker Pentecost sat at the dining room table -- which was set with what looked like the "good" dishes and silverware, including cloth napkins and crystal glasses -- and perked up as they entered, but Chuck just nodded and kept trucking right by, apparently headed for the kitchen. Raleigh had no choice but to follow along, still a victim of the kid's surprisingly strong grip, but Yancy, at least, paused to say a polite hello.

They pushed through the bottom half of a surprisingly quaint Dutch door -- the top half was already open -- and Chuck finally stopped his determined march.

"Don't reckon anyone needs any introductions, but here we all are, yeah?"

If he lived another fifty years with his spotty memory, Raleigh thought he'd still remember the look on Hercules Hansen's face as three men barged into his kitchen and found him in a frilly floral apron and stuffed koala house shoes, sampling the gravy and looking as caught as a criminal with a bag of money in hand. Silence reigned for a full ninety seconds before Yancy let out a choked little snicker, Raleigh tried to cover his own laugh with a cough, and Herc stood to his full height and threateningly waved the licked-clean spoon at his son.

"You did that on goddamn purpose, you little ratbag!"

Unimpressed, Chuck finally let go of Raleigh's arm to cross his own over his chest. "You were supposed to be dressed already, old man. I brought your boots in and everything."

"I was checking the bread!"

"Oi, you're just warming it up. 'S not like you made it from scratch."

Yancy gave in and openly chuckled. "I am _so_ glad we came."

Herc shot him a narrow look, though he blushed to the tips of his ears as he did so. "You're supposed to be sat in the dining room with Stacker and Tendo, yeah?"

Raleigh put his hands up. "I was dragged against my will. I'm innocent."

Chuck snorted and elbowed him, but didn't protest.

Irritated -- but not actually mad about it, Raleigh'd wager -- Herc shooed them all out of the kitchen with threats to oversalt the pot roast if they didn't comply, so it was a smirking lot of them that piled back into the dining room. Stacker looked stoic as ever, though there was a hint of amusement around the eyes, but Tendo was grinning ear to ear.

"Seriously, Chuck. You got him the koalas. You can admit it."

The kid opened his mouth, but, surprisingly, Stacker broke in before he could say anything. "That was Mako, actually."

Raleigh's eyes widened. "Ya know, I can see it."

Tendo hauled himself to his feet, balancing on the one good leg so he didn't have to take up his crutch, and he and Yance pounded each other on the back like they hadn't seen each other in years, although Tendo was their one regular visitor and they talked all the time. Admittedly, he hadn't been around since his knee injury had sidelined him, but still. To his credit, Tendo made sure to give Raleigh a good, back-pounding hug, too, then stood back and gave him a once-over before nodding with approval.

"I see Chuck's not letting you slack off without me there to crack the whip."

He rolled his eyes, even as he offered an arm for the poor guy to brace on as he eased back down into his chair. "Yes, because I never want to go another ten reps or beg for just ten more minutes, and then you can have your damn coffee, Tendo."

Chuck, who had already sat down across from Tendo so Raleigh would sit next to him and across from Yancy, huffed. "Oi, he does that to you, too?" Shaking his head, he eyed Raleigh as he took the offered seat. "You're a glutton for punishment, mate."

Stacker, his voice too quiet for gravitas but somehow still authoritative, smoothly interjected. "He always was, weren't you, Mr. Becket?"

"Raleigh, please."

Chuck sprawled back in his chair and smirked. "Or Ray, because _Raaahleigh_ is ridiculous."

Unimpressed, he eyed The Jerk. "Anything is ridiculous when you say it like that."

Those light-colored eyes narrowed. "Like what?"

Yancy snorted and elbowed Tendo. "Like an Australian."

"Oi!"

Even Stacker was visibly amused, though, so the kid let it go easily enough. It helped that Herc strolled in finally -- in boots instead of house shoes and with the apron long gone -- with a serving platter heaped high with pot roast and the attendant potatoes and carrots.

"You lot don't start without me, or you're not getting any dessert." Herc spoke to the group, but his gimlet gaze focused directly on his son. "Picking off the platter counts as starting without me, just for the record."

If Chuck was trying for an innocent grin, he failed miserably. "So you've said."

Muttering under his breath, the senior Hansen went back into the kitchen. As soon as the lower Dutch door swung closed behind him, the junior Hansen reached out and snagged a piece of meat. Four sets of eyes speared him as he popped it into his mouth, but Chuck Hansen wasn't one to be shamed by public opinion.

"Oi, not my fault this lot was late. I'm hungry, aren't I?"

Of course, Herc was back before the brat could finish chewing, and his immediate "shame on you" expression was epic. Chuck, though, proved immune with a shit-eating grin.

"Official quality control tester."

"Cheeky little shite is more like it." But the elder gave up his pique and put down the salad bowl. "Did you at least use a fork instead of your fingers?"

The shit-eating grin finally turned a bit sheepish around the edges.

"Chuck!"

"Oi, I washed my hands, didn't I?"

"Before or after you put Max in the back garden?"

A pause. "Right. 'Scuse me, gents."

And with that, the kid got up and left the room. Herc closed his eyes, then looked up at the ceiling as if praying for patience.

Tendo grunted. "Ew."

"Don't get me started, mate. Sometimes, I dunno if that tosser needs a hug or a kick in the ass."

Yancy smirked at Raleigh across the table. "Do I get a vote?"

Stacker and Tendo both answered in unison, "No."

Snorting, Herc went back into the kitchen and came back out almost immediately with a gravy boat and a bowl of green beans. "Anyone fancy a drink?"

Both Yancy and Raleigh were on medications that made alcohol a risky proposition at the best of times, so they shared a look and asked for water. Tendo requested a beer and, after a moment's considering glance at the brothers, Stacker did the same. When Herc returned to the kitchen again, the venerable elder looked from Raleigh to Yancy and back again.

"Wellbutrin?"

Yancy smiled like a wince. "Prozac. And OxyContin."

Raleigh became engrossed with the tines of his fork. "Paxil and Ativan. And Tylenol 3."

"Right. Forgot the Ativan."

"And Ambien, of course." He shrugged. "Probably needed that anyway. Always did have trouble sleeping."

Nodding, Stacker eyed them each again. "Xanax. Though I don't need it as often as I used to."

Without looking up completely, Raleigh saw Yancy's shoulders lower and felt some of his own unease fade. He was actually able to cast a quick glance around the room before studying the fascinating landscape of his plain white plate. Then Tendo, bless his loyal heart, grunted.

"I feel totally gypped. Why did you guys get all the good prescriptions? I had to practically beg for Zoloft, and they didn't give me so much as a hydrocodone until I screwed up my knee."

Stacker shot him a droll look. "Active combat, old son."

Yancy nodded, not quite back to grinning but definitely past that horrible wince of a smile. "It puts you on the fast track for the good stuff."

Raleigh started to say something -- he wasn't sure what; perhaps a plea for a change in subject -- when Chuck strolled back into the room, his grin faltering the second he glanced around.

"Oi, what the fuck happened? I was only out of the room for a second, yeah?"

Tendo, again, saved the awkward conversation. "We're discussing psychiatric medications, and why I didn't get any of the good stuff."

"Ah." To Raleigh's surprise, the kid just strolled around the table and sprawled back down in his chair, apparently comfortable again. "They wanted to put me on Ritalin or Adderall or some shite when I was just a lad. Dad knocked 'em back, though. Said I just needed something to occupy me. Got me my first robotics kit that year." The shit-eating grin came back. "Never had a disciplinary problem again, yeah?"

Herc, who had apparently been standing on the kitchen side of the Dutch door for quite some time, grunted. "Probably woulda been quicker if I'd just let 'em dope you up."

Tendo snorted and even Yancy managed a real grin. Raleigh just shook his head and gave up any hope of turning the conversation to shallower waters. With this motley group, he probably should have expected worse.

"Oi, need some help with that?" To his credit, Chuck did hop to his feet when he realized Herc was trying to negotiate a tray of drinks and a platter of what smelled like garlic toast. "Anything else need brought in?"

Herc handed off the bread, then tilted his head back toward the kitchen. "If you don't mind grabbing the salad dressing?"

"On it." The kid laid the platter on the table next to the roast, then headed into the kitching without further prompting. "Oi, the disgusting American ranch shite or the good stuff?"

Shaking his head, Herc shot a wry glance around the table. "Both. Jesus."

Chuck returned with three separate bottles, all unopened, and Raleigh couldn't help but shoot Yancy an amused glance that was returned with interest. The kid's comment about Herc treating company like Chuck finally bringing home a prom date reoccurred, and he glanced over to find said kid looking at him... fondly. Yes, that was a fond look, the dimples not deep but the eyes warm.

Then, Stacker cleared his throat. "Would anyone like to say grace?"

"Ooh, me!" Tendo actually raised his hand.

Yancy shook his head. "You haaaaad to ask, didn't you?"

To his credit, Stacker actually looked a bit discomfitted. "Sorry. I forgot."

Chuck frowned a bit and leaned toward Raleigh. "What's the drama?"

Still caught by the fondness that had been on the kid's face a moment before, Raleigh grinned. "No drama. Just... Tendo's Catholic. _Very_ Catholic."

Light-colored eyes widened. "Oi, we won't be eating any time soon, then."

Tendo grunted. "I heard that."

Yancy and Herc snickered, Chuck and Raleigh exchanged elbows to the ribs, and Stacker shook his head at them as if they were all naughty children.

In all, it was a damn good start to the evening.

\--

They ate and laughed. They stuffed themselves with rich brownies that Herc only reluctantly admitted to making from a box mix. Yancy was suitably appalled and threatened to go make some _real_ brownies until Raleigh reminded him that he'd been enjoying them just fine five minutes ago. They settled in the den with a deck of cards, and while Stacker smoked a sweet vanilla-smelling cigar and Tendo had a few too many beers, Chuck and Raleigh systematically destroyed Herc and Yancy at pitch with a combination of Raleigh's innocent face and Chuck's sheer audacity.

Finally, though, it was time to start heading for the door with many promises to enjoy another such evening, perhaps at the Beckets' brownstone next time. Raleigh helped Tendo into his cab and made sure the poor -- but very happy -- guy had his crutch at hand for when he got home, then went back inside to finish saying his own goodbyes and help Yancy out to the truck.

And then, it happened. Stacker had already waved off and headed upstairs, and out of nowhere, Herc picked up the truck's keys from where Raleigh had laid them on a handy table earlier.

"Oi, I'll get Yance out to the truck, yeah? Give you two a moment alone for a proper goodbye."

Yancy's eyes widened, but the asshole didn't say a word. Raleigh spluttered and Chuck remained ominously silent.

Finally, Raleigh managed to speak. Sort of. "Uh... did Chuck not tell you? We're... uh... it's just to get the gym discount." He gestured between himself and Chuck, then edged away when he realized how close they were standing. Practically arm-in-arm. "We're not... it's not like...."

Desperate, he looked to Chuck for help, but the kid had crossed his arms and was glaring, mulishly silent, at his father. No help there.

Herc, however, was unperturbed and just twirled Raleigh's keys around his finger. "That so? 'Cause all I've been hearing for months now is 'that bloke down at the gym', and this week, it's 'Raleigh did this' and 'Raleigh said that'. Not one word about a discount since he talked you into it."

At that, Chuck finally spoke, his voice cold. "Guess it wasn't just Tendo what had one too many, yeah?"

"I'm not pissed." Where Chuck sounded cold, Herc just sounded smug. "Just don't see how you two sods spend so much time in each other's pockets, texting and talking and running side by side at the gym and getting on like a house fire, but still think you're not dating."

Yancy, the traitor, leaned against the wall -- Raleigh's over-protective mind immediately lost some of its fluster at the reminder that the poor guy had been wearing his prosthetics longer than usual and was probably aching like a bitch -- and let himself sound equally smug. "He does have a point, boys. Shopping together at the farmer's market. Wearing the same cologne."

"Oi, I'm not even wearing cologne!"

Clearing his throat and blushing, though he kept an eye on his brother's balance, Raleigh rubbed the back of his neck. "Australian sandalwood."

Chuck blinked, then groaned. "Oi, fuck. It's _soap,_ you assholes. He got the shampoo; I got the soap."

Herc smirked. "Matching scents, either way. And a nice family dinner to make sure we're all introduced and get along."

Raleigh huffed. "That was _your_ idea!"

"Yeah, not ours." Chuck glared again. "I knew you were too goddamn flustered for this to just be a neighborly chat, old man. You're trying to set us up. Admit it."

Yancy chimed in again, almost in a singsong. "And a nice, lowkey date at the coffee shop."

 _"Fake_ date!"

"The evidence is mounting, lads." Smug all over again, Herc crossed his arms and leaned back to eye them both. "Think you're both too damn stubborn to see what's right in your faces." He shot a glance at Yancy. "So... moment alone?"

"After you." The traitor.

The conspirators left and closed the door behind them, leaving Raleigh and Chuck awkward and silent in the lowlit entryway. Neither of them seemed inclined to speak.

Awkward. As. Fuck.

Finally, after far too long, Chuck groaned and ran a hand over his face. "I am so sorry, mate. I had no idea that's what he had in mind."

Raleigh shook his head. "I tried to tell you Yancy is a prick." Sighing, he finally shot the kid a pensive look. "He probably thinks he's trying to help, but... ugh."

"Trying to help... what?"

Tired now, the embarrassment having taken the last of his energy reserves for the day, he shrugged. "He's been on me to start dating again for, like, two years now."

Chuck sighed. "Christ, mate, I've _never_ dated. Scratched the itch plenty of times, but my old man's fair certain by now that I'll never settle down. Don't have the temperament for it, yeah?"

His voice quiet, he admitted another thing he never thought to say out loud, though he could only say it to the wall. "I keep hoping he'll realize no one would want me anymore." He huffed quietly. "But he's my brother. He doesn't see it."

After a long, tired but still awkward moment, Chuck grunted. "The fuck are you on about, Ray?"

Blinking off some of the melancholy, he stared at the kid in surprise. "What?"

Eyebrows pulled together, Chuck frowned at him. "Why wouldn't someone want you?"

Confused, he tilted his head to one side. "You saw me."

The kid looked blank.

"In the shower?"

Still blank. "Yeah? And?"

Frowning himself now, Raleigh crossed his arms. "And as if it wasn't ugly enough on its own, it's a constant reminder that I'm a complete fuck-up? That I damn near killed my own brother because of it?"

"Are you serious right now?" Incredulous, Chuck looked him up and down with wide eyes. "Mate, the only reason I've not tried to get in your pants yet is because you're doing me a favor, yeah? I've wanted to fuck you pretty much since I walked in the goddamn door the first day."

Speechless, he could only gape.

"Yeah, your scars look like they hurt like fuck, but they don't detract from the overall picture. As for them announcing you're a fuck-up, that's bullshit, mate. Dad told me what happened, and Stacker confirmed that no word of recklessness or charges of incompetence were ever brought against you."

Still speechless, he stood silent as the kid stepped closer until he was right in his face.

"Did you or did you not carry your unconscious brother back to base -- five miles away -- whilst you were all but bleeding out yourself? Is that just a legend, or is that what happened?"

He swallowed hard, unable to answer.

"You didn't do anything wrong, mate." One hand reached out and traced light fingers over one of the scars visible below the sleeve of his t-shirt. "You know what this tells me?"

He shook his head, throat dry as the desert he'd stumbled across, half-blind from the glare and blood loss and half-mad from fear that Yancy had already died and he was carrying his brother's corpse back to base, where he would hopefully be court-martialled and dishonorably discharged and dumped in a hole somewhere, like he deserved.

"Tells me you lived, mate. Tells me you'd have given it up if it would've saved your brother."

Closer still, and Chuck traced those gentle fingers further up under his sleeve, sliding them around to cup his triceps while his thumb traced his bicep. The kid tilted his head a bit, his breath warm against Raleigh's cheek.

"So if your scars are the only thing holding you back, mate, we coulda been dating for real this whole bloody time."

His breath caught, and Chuck took it for the hint it probably was. It was a gentle kiss, more of a question than a statement, but it... opened a door. One he'd deliberately locked five years and four months before. Their lips parted, but Chuck didn't go far.

"Yeah?"

Nothing had changed. Chuck hadn't heard the grocery list of medications he was on. Raleigh still knew he was responsible for not seeing that goddamn piece of shit jury-rigged IED in time to avoid it.

Still....

"Yeah."

 _This_ kiss was a statement. A conversation, even, and one he let go on just long enough for both of them to realize it was best left to another time when Herc wasn't waiting to come back in and Yancy wasn't already aching to get the prosthetics off and take his nightly dose of OxyContin.

Apparently, Chuck understood his side of the silent talk, because he pulled away just enough to lean his forehead against Raleigh's. "Gotta hit the farmer's market in the morning."

He nodded an affirmative to the unasked question. "Yance'll probably want me to pick up something after my run."

An almost chaste touch of lips, and Chuck stood away completely, a little pink in the cheeks but otherwise none the worse for wear. His eyes, though. Whatever color they were -- and Raleigh still couldn't quite make it out -- they practically glowed in the low ambient light.

"See you there." One side of his mouth quirked, the dimple peeking out. "Raleigh."

Biting a bit at his lower lip, he nodded and backed toward the door. "See you there."

It would have been the perfect goodbye.

If Herc hadn't chosen the exact wrong moment to open the door just as Raleigh backed into it, whacking the back of his head on the edge and damn near falling over with a curse. So much for perfect.

But he still drove home with a soft, amazed little grin on his face.

Needless to say, Yancy smirked the whole damn way.


	10. Chapter 10

Sasha took one look at them as they walked into the gym side by side... and smiled.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this one! It was fun and quick to write, so I hope it's the same for you to read!
> 
> Again, thank you, estei! You're always such a help and so encouraging!


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